Deceptive Romance
by Danatheleseus
Summary: Third in command of the Decepticon Army, Prowl has finally found the spark he desires. That the spark is in the chassis of an Autobot is the Autobot's problem.
1. Chapter 1

Prowl stalked into the Decepticon brig irritably with his wings hiked up. The head guard had informed him of a mech whose spark energy was within an acceptable variance of his criteria, if not close enough for surety. As always, three Praxian enforcers followed him silently. He paused as he saw three of the hulking guards holding down a much smaller Polyhexian-framed Autobot, apparently the one the head guard had singled out. Prowl took the time to look more closely. The Autobot's frame was a sturdy but flexible model, without the heavy armor so many added. Prowl decided he must depend more on his speed and flexibility to survive and was likely a special operations' agent. Prowl was pleased. It had become much more likely that this was the one he was searching for.

As Prowl began stalking forward again, the Polyhexian saw him. Prowl watched as his struggles increased, wild thrashings that the three guards struggled to keep contained. Stronger then he looks, Prowl mused to himself before looking for the mech that had alerted him.

"This is the mech?" he asked the head guard evenly, face expressionless. The large warframe fell over himself to explain to the much smaller Praxian. He told of how they had found the infiltrator and the head guard himself had scanned his spark for a match. Of how he had immediately, without delay even, sent the message. The Autobot had been kept safe, undamaged, for Prowl's arrival. Prowl nodded gravely. The Autobot had stopped struggling during the head guard's report. He was venting heavily, but also listening intently to the discussion between the guard and Prowl.

"You scanned through armor?" he asked. The head guard nodded quickly. "The match may be closer without the interference of his armor. Open him." For a moment both the guards and the Autobot seemed frozen before the Polyhexian cried out in protest and thrashed even more wildly than before. The guards almost lost control of his twisting limbs before regaining their grip and forcing him down to the ground. The desperate pleas and denials of the Autobot turned into shrieks of pain, as heavy claws forced his chassis open. They rose to a painfully high pitch before cutting off abruptly as the Autobot went limp.

The head guard pulled out the spark scanner and gingerly scanned the exposed spark of the unconscious Autobot as Prowl watched. When the results came back as a perfect match, the Praxian smiled.

"Have Hook repair him before taking him to my quarters," the Decepticon Third in command said.


	2. Chapter 2

Jazz onlined in a cage. He stirred sluggishly, low energy warnings, damage and repair notices clouding his processor and making it hard to think. The dark room beyond his cage was quiet; all he could hear was the muffled sounds of distant voices, too distorted to understand. Layers of metallic meshes tangled his limbs as he tried to push himself up.

Jazz shakily looked down at his arms. Black bands circled his wrists, featureless except for the welds that sealed them closed. His chest… Jazz shook as he looked at his chest. He remembered being held down, his chassis forced open as cold red optics watched, as he tried to fight…

Jazz gagged from the memory, tanks too empty to throw up. Deep scratches and gouges still marked his chassis, along with the scorch marks and dents from his capture. At least his chest was decently closed. All of his wounds were patched, leaving only minor damage. Whoever had him wanted him in good repair. Jazz curled into a corner. He knew of only one reason a 'con would have him repaired and dragged into a private room. He only wondered how slowly he would die.

Suddenly the room brightened. Jazz jerked in surprise, scanning the room. He saw an open door, just as the cold eyed Praxian walked through. His back hit the cage wall as he cowered away. He brought his hands up defensively, claws out, even though the mech was across the room from him, and his engine growled in warning. For a moment the Decepticon stood in front of the door, watching him with sensor wings flared. Then he smiled and walked forward.


	3. Chapter 3

Prowl watched his prize growl in defiance as he walked closer. So weak from hunger and recent repairs, he mused to himself, that the Autobot had to lean against the side of the cage and he was still ready to fight. Prowl's engine purred with approval. He opened the cage.

"Come here, lovely one," Prowl's voice had deepened to a purr. In response his prize hissed at him and pushed back against the side of the cage.

"Back off," his lovely said, slicing both clawed hands before him in threat. "Ah'm not goin' ta be yur toy," he slurred with a thick Polyhexian accent.

"Almost grey with hunger and you think to challenge me?" Prowl asked, allowing his amusement to touch his voice and color his field. He pulled a cube of bright energon out of his subspace. "Come here."

"Go frag yerself," his fierce prize slurred, slumping slightly. Prowl carefully hid both his pride and concern. He sent the command code to the collar around the Autobot's neck and watched as the blue visor brightened in shock and the mech made a strangled sound of protest before falling forward limply. Prowl carefully caught him before he hit the piled up meshes, feeling the terror in his field as he guided him down gently. Then Prowl pulled the smaller mech into his arms. Prowl settled his lovely in his lap carefully, and stroked the smooth helm and hummed for a moment, trying to calm his beautiful one. A long cord was pulled from his subspace and wrapped snugly around the Polyhexian's wrists.

"You need to fuel, my lovely one," he cooed affectionately. He gathered the Autobot's bound-together wrists in one hand before releasing the other mech from the collar induced paralysis. Immediately the Polyhexian started struggling, trying to slip free. He was so weak from lack of energy that Prowl was able to contain him easily, despite his squirming in Prowl's lap.

"Hush now," Prowl ordered quietly, tightening his grip. He could not hide how his lovely's writhing body was affecting him, the building charge causing his fans to start and both pleasure and lust coloring his field. Panting, his lovely treasure froze staring at Prowl. Prowl in turn stared at his lovely, drinking in his expressive face ornamented with a curved blue visor. A choked whimper broke his focus and Prowl resettled his armor.

"Mmm, yes," he said, reaching for the almost forgotten cube of fuel with his free hand. "Here, lovely one. Drink it slowly." His arm curled around the Polyhexian and he carefully tipped the cube just so. Prowl felt his captive tug at his captured wrists. His lovely looked from the cube to him.

"Can…" The Polyhexian started, then reset his vocalize to clear the static. "Can Ah hold it mehself?" Prowl smiled and his field colored with approval and pride. His clever treasure was already testing his boundaries.

"No," he stated and carefully nudged his captive's lips with the cube of energon. His lovely looked up at him for a moment and reluctantly started sipping at the energon. Prowl ignored the shame in his field. His beautiful prize would learn he had nothing to be ashamed of. He carefully held the cube, allowing the Polyhexian to sip steadily, if not quickly, at the much needed fuel.

Finally the cube was empty. His prize would need more soon, but it was best to let the fuel settle first. Prowl dispersed the energon cube and stood up, pulling his lovely up with him. The Autobot cried out in surprise, a static filled yelp. Prowl nuzzled him.

"Time to wash you, lovely one," he said calmly as his pretty looked up at him, field full of anxiety. "Then another ration of energon before you recharge."


	4. Chapter 4

Jazz stared at the Decepticon. He had expected to be raped or tortured. When the Decepticon had pulled out the energon, he had thought that the Praxian would force him to beg for fuel or taunt him with it. Instead, he had been held gently, hand fed, held gently again and now the crazy mech said that he was going to give him a bath and put him to bed? What did he want! Jazz thought somewhat hysterically.

The Praxian was backing up, pulling Jazz along with him by the cords wrapped around his wrists. Jazz looked desperately at the door the Decepticon had entered by. A finger under his chin turned his face back to meet the Decepticon's eyes.

"A trine of Enforcers have been assigned to guard you," he was told. The Praxian had no emotion in his voice. Jazz couldn't tell if he was gloating or warning him, but those red eyes were hungry as they stared at him.

"Come," a gentle tug pulled him forward. His footsteps were unsteady and wavering, his balance uncertain. He still had low energy warnings clouding his processor as well as repair notices, damage warnings, and frame deep aches from his repairs. He needed to recharge and let his self-repair finish the job. There was no way to escape in his current condition, no way he could resist anything the Decepticon wanted to do to him.

Jazz flashed back to being held down and clawed hands forcing his chassis open again. He started shaking. He didn't know what game the Decepticon was playing but he didn't want to play it. He kept shaking, harder and harder until he nearly fell. Gentle hands caught him, strong arms held him, a comforting field surrounded him as he gasped helplessly, trapped in a panic attack. Eventually his sobs quieted, but the mech holding him waited patiently. Finally he looked up.

"Why?" he whispered. For a long moment, the Praxian did not respond. Then he gently stroked Jazz's helm.

"You are mine." the Decepticon stated.

Prowl was relieved when they reached the storage unit containing his cleaning supplies. His lovely one was much too quiet, barely able to keep on his feet. The Polyhexian needed fuel and recharge soon. For a moment, Prowl wondered if he should fuel his lovely first. No, consistency was more important he decided, better that his pretty knew that Prowl would do as he said he would.

He would give his lovely a quick wash, just enough to get most of the grime off, then feed him and let him rest, Prowl decided. He carefully lifted his lovely and looped the cord around his wrists over a hook in the wall. Finally, his prize showed spirit, kicking and struggling, but the deed was done and his fierce one could not escape. The Autobot could not keep up the struggle and finally stilled. He made a lovely image, stretched taut with his arms held up and feet barely touching the floor.

"Please," his pretty whispered, looking over his shoulder at Prowl. "Don't…" the Autobot's voice dwindled into a choked sob. The hook was high enough that when he went limp, his legs just bent a little. Prowl quickly checked his lovely's arms, making sure the weight was not causing damage. Relieved that his pretty was just unconscious, Prowl turned to the storage unit and retrieved his cleaning supplies.


	5. Chapter 5

Jazz onlined slowly. Integration notices scrolled through his processor. His tanks weren't empty and a strong field surrounded him with affection and comfort. In the back of his processors a niggling thought surfaced. Where was he? He had been a prisoner, captured. Had he been rescued? It didn't feel like it. Jazz tried to shift, only to find he was being held immobile in someone's arms. His visor flickered online. He slowly looked up to find red optics.

"Finally awake, lovely one," the Praxian said calmly. Jazz didn't dare move. The Decepticon seemed content just to watch him.

"Wh-Who are you?" Jazz finally whispered. The Praxian smiled faintly at him.

"My name is Prowl, my beauty," he said softly. One of his arms moved, a hand started stroking Jazz's back. Jazz twitched then stilled. "What shall I call you, my lovely?" Jazz twitched even more, staring at the Praxian with a disbelieving expression.

"You want… um… Jazz, I guess," he finally said. Prowl leaned down and nuzzled at Jazz's helm, a hand holding him in place.

"Jazz. Improvisational Style, with modifiers signifying informality and music," He said, translating the glyphs of Jazz's name. "Mh-mm. A good name."

"I…what…" Jazz stuttered. "Why do you care? What do you want?" he finally wailed.

The Praxian laughed softly and tightened his hold for a moment. "I have what I want, lovely Jazz." He purred. "You do not need to fear. I will take very good care of you." Jazz stared at him incredulously before thrashing in a desperate attempt to escape.

His lovely one, his Jazz, was much stronger, Prowl noted with approval even as he used the collar to paralyze the hysterical Autobot. His pretty's visor glowed a vibrant, vivid blue and Prowl took a moment to admire the color. Unfortunately, while his fierce prize was lovely in anger, it limited what Prowl could do with him. After all, he doubted Jazz would be in any mood to talk or entertain him. Finally Prowl decided that polishing his lovely would be the best way to pass the time until Jazz calmed down or his shift started.

"Calm, lovely Jazz," he said, nuzzling his pretty's helm as he reluctantly laid the Polyhexian down on the berth. Jazz's field spiked with fear. "Just a polishing, my beauty. I want to see you shine." Prowl stroked his lovely Jazz a moment more, before getting up and going to the inbuilt storage unit. He quickly gathered the necessary items-polish, soft brushes, cloth, and sealant-before returning to the berth.

Prowl enjoyed himself until shift started. His lovely had calmed down considerably as he was polished. Unfortunately Prowl had to make an appearance before Lord Megatron and prove that his duties would not suffer from the distractions of taking care of his prize.

"I need to go, lovely Jazz," he said, closing the cap of the polishing container. Jazz looked up at him, confusion on his face. "Time for you to return to your new quarters." Prowl stood up and looked to the side of the room, where the cage not much larger than Jazz had been replaced with a much larger construction that took up most of that side of the room. "Will you cooperate?"

Jazz followed his gaze to the prison. It was bare except for a small berth. After a slight pause he nodded. Prowl smiled as he led his treasure to the door. His clever infiltrator was no doubt already thinking of ways to escape. Prowl almost chuckled as he commed for one of Jazz's guards to enter. It would be interesting to see how his lovely reacted when he understood the level of difficulty he would face.

Jazz froze as he saw the new Praxian enter. He had almost relaxed when his insane captor had done nothing more than polish him. He mentally cursed himself. He should have known better. He glanced at the door. The area was large enough that they couldn't grab him from the entrance if he kept to the back. And if the other Praxian entered, the restricted area favored him. Jazz tried to subtly set his feet and angle himself to best move.

Instead of leering at him, or even looking at him, the other Praxian kept his concentration on the one that called himself "Prowl" earlier.

"Reporting for duty, sir." That was not what Jazz expected to hear. He almost fell over from surprise as the first Praxian just nodded toward the cage and ordered the second Praxian to guard him. He reset his visor, hoping that reality would start making sense. Instead, the Praxian took up station in front of his cage and just stood there. A guard? He was in a cage, his subspace empty, in the middle of what was probably the Decepticon Officer's quarters, **and** he had a guard? Exactly what was he suspected to get up to that he needed a guard, Jazz wondered dazedly.

The first Praxian, Prowl, was already leaving. Jazz stared after him and wondered what the next orn would bring.


	6. Chapter 6

It turned out that what the orn would bring was boredom.

There was nothing in the cage. Jazz could only recharge so long. The guard refused to have anything to do with him, actually acted like he couldn't even hear him. He did, however, watch him. The steady gaze was really rather creepy. The itching as his armor healed was maddening with nothing to distract him. By the time Prowl returned Jazz would have done almost anything to get out of the cage.

That didn't stop him from hesitating when Prowl opened the door.

"What do ya want me for?" Jazz asked suspiciously, edging closer.

"I want your company." Prowl said, settling back. "if you decline, then I will simply leave you alone until I desire your company once more." Jazz twitched unhappily and Prowl's optics narrowed. "No doubt you will be more agreeable in an orn or two." He moved to close the door and Jazz threw himself forward.

"No, wait, I … Company? What k-kind of company?" Jazz stuttered. "I c-can sing for you? Or-or we could talk. Right, about, about, umm…" Jazz stumbled to a stop in front of the door both physically and verbally. His visor flickered up at the praxian and he bit his lower lip. Prowl's optics dropped to Jazz's mouth and his expression became focused. Jazz blinked, then flushed and looked down, struggling to make his face expressionless. His weight shifted uneasily.

"A game of Exarchs, perhaps?" Prowl asked, before Jazz could retreat. The smaller mech stared at him for a moment and then made a harsh sound that tried to pass itself off as laughter. He slumped slightly and nodded. A strong hand took his and Jazz was led out into the room.

Prowl made sure to give Jazz a cube of energon to drink as they played the game. The time passed swiftly. Jazz was a better player than Prowl expected but the Decepticon still won easily. After the game, Prowl stood and walked over to the storage unit that contained the polishing supplies. When he turned back, his lovely was on his feet, shifting anxiously. When Prowl told him to get on the berth, his lovely immediately darted for the doors. Prowl watched with amusement as his prize was stopped at the locked doors and then sent the command to paralyze his lovely before he could hack them open. He calmly took his supplies to the berth before approaching the paralyzed mech on the floor.

"Calm, my lovely one." He purred. "No fear is needed. I will not hurt you." He gathered the smaller mech up in his arms. The Polyhexian was not that much smaller than he was and made an awkward armful but Prowl still carried him easily. "Just a light detailing, my Jazz, then recharge." He turned toward the berth, ignoring how his lovely's field flickered and flared with fear and confusion. His beauty's armor was already much smoother from the previous orns session with the nanite polish. Soon it would have the flawless texture of healthy metal once more.

After polishing his Jazz, he held his prize close, enjoyed the hum of healthy engines and reflected on the enjoyable evening. He purred as he nuzzled a conveniently close sensor horn, ignoring how stiff his lovely was and how his field was held so closely to the frame that it could not be read. His lovely would realize that Prowl kept his word eventually, and that he was safe. Prowl initiated recharge with his prize in his arms.

Jazz found the following orns to be very similar. Prowl would lock him in the cage every morning. If he tried to resist, Prowl would paralyze him and put him in anyway. The guard would stare at him. When Prowl came back he would receive energon, and either play some form of game, watch a vid or otherwise spend time with his captor, while pretending that the whole situation wasn't utterly fragged up, before being polished, detailed or whatever type of maintenance Prowl deemed suitable as a relaxing prelude to cuddling him close and recharging. If he struggled or made things difficult, Prowl would paralyze him and skip directly to the maintenance and cuddling portion of the night. When Prowl hit recharge the collar would shut him down. Jazz hadn't tried killing the bastard yet, but considering everything else that had been covered… He was afraid to risk it. At least Prowl didn't want to hurt him. Use him as some weird sort of… of teddy bear maybe, but not hurt him.


End file.
